


Mysterious Ways

by tolakasa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolakasa/pseuds/tolakasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one else saw where Castiel landed.  Spoilers for 9.1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mysterious Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: firesign10

The time had come to step back, to let his creations take their first steps, to watch them grow. That day came for every parent; it was more cruel to hover than to let them fly.

The humans seized it. The angels...not so much. He had given them too much love of order, not enough independence. What little independence he'd put in the mix seemed to have all been soaked up by Gabriel, who, instead of sharing with his brothers, had run off to play adopted son to Odin and make out with Kali.

The darling little brat. Even _he_ , their father, had a hard time forgiving Lucifer for that death.

The others, though—

Follow orders this, follow orders that, all except for Michael, who was all about _giving_ orders. Someday, when Michael had learned _his_ lesson—and a hefty helping of humility—their father would let him out of the Cage.

None of them had grasped it—except that one. He really should have paid more attention to the lower ranks, rather than delegating so much to the Archangels. But expectations could blind anyone.

He would never have thought that, of all the Host, it would be a little low-ranked warrior who first figured out the beauty of independence. Exposure to those Winchester boys helped, but Castiel had to make that final leap on his own, as all creatures did.

Clearly his wayward children had not been thinking straight when they had the cherubs match up those boys' parents. Mortals should not be able to have that kind of influence on angels. Teaching Castiel independence, refusing Michael, lecturing Gabriel, overcoming Lucifer....

Independence was a tricky thing, of course, and even with the guidance of his new friends, Castiel was too new at it to not make mistakes. Angels were intended to be reflections of his own love. But somehow, when it came to their home and their brethren, they twisted love into obsession.

The Winchesters probably hadn't set a very good example there, either.

Some days, Castiel's father thinks that the best thing he could do for the universe would be to learn how to destroy something after he created it. Then the Leviathans would never have been in Purgatory. Oh, Castiel could never be God—he was an angel, and that was still too much power for an angel—but he would have learned a much different lesson than the one he did.

The problem is, God is really quite soft-hearted. If he wasn't, the Westboro Baptist Church would have been incinerated a long time ago.

And it wasn't like Castiel—and those two scrappy little human pals of his—hadn't paid for the mistakes they'd made, many times over.

Of course, they made more. That was as it had to be. And it wasn't like he didn't know his favorite scribe was a scheming little backstabber from the beginning. There were reasons Metatron didn't live in Heaven anymore, and reasons he was so bitter that the first thing he did when he had the chance was cast the entire Host down.

It wasn't knowing that all this was going to happen that was the hard part. It was knowing and not lifting a finger to change it.

No one else marked where Castiel landed. The others were too involved in their own fall. But he saw. He marked.

He arrived, albeit not how Castiel would ever expect. But then, he'd always been partial to motorized vehicles, ever since mankind got around to inventing them. The truck wasn't as nice as the Winchester boy's Impala, but it served.

Castiel's reflexes were at least slightly better than human, even with his grace torn away. Almost Winchester-ish. It didn't save him from a scraped palm, though, or the astonishing new sensation that was mortal pain.

"Hey, buddy," he said to his most independent son. "You okay?"


End file.
